Killer Punch by Amy Korman

Author:Amy Korman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

ON MONDAY, THE sun was shining, the sky was a brilliant blue, and my mood was jubilant as walked outside and looked at The Striped Awning from a customer’s-­eye-­view.

I felt a surge of hope. I’d finished my second coat of Smashing Pink. The color was incredibly cheerful! I mean, who could resist entering an all-­pink store with an adorable basset hound looking out from the front windows? Plus I hadn’t been party to mail fraud! And, my boyfriend would be home tomorrow from his vet clinic. Things were definitely on the upswing.

“The pink looks pretty good,” said Bootsie, who showed up with Joe at eleven-­fifteen.

“I just came from the Pack-­N-­Ship, where I was going to grab that box and take it to Walt,” she told me. “I told Leena I left my phone in the back room, but when I went back there, the package headed to Beverly Hills was gone. I checked every single bin—­which you did a nice job organizing, by the way.”

“Maybe it shipped out already,” I said hopefully. I’d had a chance to quickly tape up the incision Bootsie had made before we finally parted ways with Leena at five-­thirty the night before, and positioned the package to go out on the first truck today.

“I’ve been thinking,” I added. “That package could have been a lot of things—­maybe a mirror or a painting the Colketts picked out for the place. We don’t know it was Heifer.”

“Well, thanks to you, we’ll never know, because the package was stolen last night,” Bootsie informed me. “Leena’s regional truck doesn’t come until noon, and nothing was sent out yet this morning. Plus Leena admitted she forgot to lock up last night. So, someone grabbed the Viale package.”

Bootsie had called Walt to report the incident. Naturally, she’d bent the truth a bit in this conversation, telling Walt that she’d been helping me at the Pack-­N-­Ship when she happened to notice a damaged box with a gilt frame peeking out. Walt had promised to look into the missing package.

“Now I’m working full time on my Mega Wine Mart story,” Bootsie finished. “Something’s funky with this franchise. There is no one named Barry Tutto in all of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, or Delaware, at least according to the Internet!”

“Yoo-­hoo!” sang out Mrs. Bingham, popping into the shop at that moment. “Kristin, this pink paint is an absolute hoot! So cheerful!”

“Thanks so much,” I said, gratified that someone liked it.

“Fun,” agreed Mr. Bingham. “Can we take you all over to the club for lunch?”

“Did you find Barry Tutto’s number yet?” Bootsie replied rudely, ignoring the lunch invite, which sounded kind of fun to me. “Because you and Barry Tutto are subjecting this town to the biggest and most environmentally unsound megastore for miles. We’re talking forty thousand square feet of concrete retail eyesore!”

The Binghams, both in sky-­blue polos today and a jaunty pair of cat-­eye sunglasses on Mrs. B., stared at Bootsie for a minute, then burst out laughing.

“Bootsie, you are too much!” said Mr.

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